2031 Olympics - Closing Ceremonies
Nepsan Judgment Of Character Torch '' Leading off from the statue is a clearing upon which an ornate circular platform rises, carved from ice. In the centre is a huge torch wrought in solid iron. Upon the base is inscribed: "THE ETERNAL FLAME OF NEPSAN JUDGMENT OF CHARACTER - SO LONG AS THIS FLAME BURNS WE SHALL TREAT ALL PEOPLE WITH THE DIGNITY AND RESPECT THEY DESERVE."'' '' Next to the torch stands the Guardian of the Flame, a shabby looking Nepsan with a pony-tail and wearing a wifebeater. He lounges about smoking cigarettes and playing shooting games on his iPhone. The flame has been extinguished for some time.'' Keeper, the brutally fierce looking horned lion-dog, transforms back into his two-legged less terrifying robot mode. Flaming Winnebago transforms into his Robot mode. Fusillade has arrived. Jayson Redfield has arrived. Keeper marches upon the torch grounds, showing up to the occassion as a matter of duty to the representation of Autobot competetors, and honor of the past two weeks peacetime. He stops to observe the flame. Redshift struts his stuff, milling around the parade grounds surrounding the Olympic Torch with his chin raised, observing hautily. He's still decked out with a series of bright white racing stripes breaking apart his usual red and black paint scheme, a reminder of his excellent performance at the final Olympic Event last night. For some reason, despite the... extreme brevity of his opening speech, Rodimus was asked to help present the medals at the closing ceremony. This was probably a mistake, given that awards ceremonies tend to, by their nature, be even /more/ tedious, meaning there's a good chance Rodimus will get bored halfway through and just start throwing medals at people, but for the moment he's going to give it the game try. He approaches the podium. "Welcome, everyone, to the closing ceremonies of the 2031 Space Olympics, a celebration of..." he frowns at the index card in his hands. "I /know/ you guys don't expect me to say this with a straight face!" he exclaims. Then he shakes his head, looks up, and smiles. "Look. We had fun. Now we've got awards to give out. Let's get started." Sit-Com is manning the remote KNUJ booth. The closing ceremonies are a big deal, and such large crowds are certainly bound to cause Lost Child/Spawnling Syndrome. A sniffling transparent humanoid wanders up to the booth and looks up with wide eyes (all 4 of them) at the Junkion. "Can you help me find my mommy?" Moments later, Sit-Com announces over the intercom, "Attention, would the parents of a lost Dyanetican spawnling please come to the KNUJ radio booth? Answers to the name Mortz." Dreadwind trudges depressingly along to the closing ceremony, for some reason he felt drawn to it, perhaps it's his role in life to be there at the end of things when all joy and hope dies and the violence and suffering begins anew. To him this is just another pause before his eternal suffering continues to even greater heights and worst of all he has to collect one of those pointless things everyone was clamouring to get. Jayson Redfield is somewhere in the crowd playing a handheld video game and barely paying attention to what's going on around him. Don't mind him, folks! The crescent shaped sweep of Redshift's wings are hard to miss in the crowd. With just a very few hip-checks and slides through small gaps, she appears at his side, propping her elbow atop his head. "So. I uhm... am trying to figure out where the past week went." Her lips draw down into an uncertain frown. "Did Astrotrain have another drinking contest?" Galvatron is standing next to Rodimus at the moment and is being a good tyrant, for now. "Yes, your moment of respite is over, everyone. Tomorrow, the skies shall rain with the spilt fuel of the slain, fires shall rage throughout the galaxy, so on, so forth." He claps his hands, and smiles. His smile isn't quite as friendly as Rodimus's. "But why not hand out these medals anyway? Even if you die in the days ahead, perhaps you'll have some small accomplishment to be remembered by?" Redshift greets Fusillade with a lopsided grin, putting his hands on his hips and trying to catch as much sunlight as he can with his gleaming armor. "There were drinking contests galore, both official and note. I, for one, avoided the seedier dives thet were available in order to stay at my PEAK performance! How well did you do, may I ask?" Keeper surveys the gathering now that the words begin. Things could get ugly even if the truce is still on. For it's the last night of it. He walks among the people, a tall presense with a calm aura. Rodimus Prime rubs his forehead, sighs, and mutters, "And /this/ is why I refused to read that 'peace and brotherhood' line." He takes a moment to glate at Galvatron, then says, louder, "The first round of medals goes to the winners of the Light Weight Gladiatorial Competition. Unfortunately, none of the winners are here, so they'll be sent their medals later on. Bronze goes to the Autobot, Steeljaw. Silver belongs to..." Rodimus frowns and leans forward, studying his card. "Hmm, I'm having trouble reading this name. It's all blurred out. Ah, well, I'm sure the Olympics Organizers will get the medal sent to the right place! Gold, however, goes to Barkida of Femax. Let's all have a big round of applause for the Light Gladatorial winners!" Fusillade jostles with Redshift a bit as she gives Rodimus and Galvatron a bit of an askance look. "I... didn't finish some of the bracket matches. I think it might have BEEN because of a drinking contest in one of those seedier dives." she mutters to him. "Dirge was really hard to find!" She frowns at the glint off Redshift's hull, and increases the tint in her goggles by a few notches. Keeper claps. He fought Barkida last year. She is formidable. BRICK. HOUSE! Sit-Com watches the presentations, clapping at the appropriate time and being careful to mute his microphone when he does so. Clap feedback is a horrible thing. Dreadwind musters the energy to lift his head and look in the direction of the Cybertronian leaders and sighs, "Not long now." He comments out loud to anyone paying attention, "I doubt whether many of those present will be returning when this pointless waste of effort begins again, they're the lucky ones." The people near Dreadwind clap half heartedly as the first medal winners are announced, maybe they just aren't into the ceremony just yet. Galvatron grins at Rodimus. "Oh, come now, Rodimus. Give peace a chance! I know I will..." His expression turns dark. "Once I'm through with the COMPETITION, that is. But anyway. For the Middlewight Gladiatorial competition, Springer wins the gold medal, Clutch wins the silver medal, and..." He glances down at the index card and frowns. "Only Dirge won a medal for the Decepticons? And it was *bronze*? Bah! Well, I'm certain we did better in the other events." Redshift's good humour fouls a bit as Barkida is mentioned. That amazon certainly was a threat in the foot race! Who knew. "Well, at least we can probably assume you had fun getting yourself drunk to the eyeballs, Fusillade! Recovering may not have been as pleasant, though. I for one plan to wait until after recieving my AWARDS before getting loaded on exceedingly expensive energons!" Keeper claps with the same steady energy he started with for both Autobot and decepticon alike. There are no undead postings on the Global Bulletin Board. Darkwing has arrived. Leaning in with more asides to Redshift, Fusillade hssts, "You KNOW how medal crazy he is! I missed out on at least one because of Pitt-know-what I was doing. -I- don't even know! Nice stripes, by the way." She has to lean down to talk with him. "Yeah, and what piece would that be?" Rodimus asks Galvatron, before looking at his next card. "Next, we have the winners of the Heavy Weight Gladatorial Competetion are: Hun-Grrr for the Bronze; Kup for the Silver," Rodimus grins at this one, then frowns as he reads the next name and sounds considerably more annoyed. "And Motormaster takes Gold." Sit-Com notices that the parents of the lost spawnling have come to claim their offspring. He gives them gratuitous coupon books, good for a whole year at any Six Lasers Venue. The Dyaneticans melt back into the crowd. Keeper gives a brief impressed look that Kup rose above Motormaster when it came to the melee battling style. He alsmo makes mental notes about Decepticon medal winners. Names that should be remembered for security reasons. Perhaps one day some or all of them will be jailed and need guarding. Dreadwind could clap for the winners but what would be the point all this fame and glory is fleeting and will soon turn to dust forgotten to time as even the medals corrode away to nothing. The crowd around him has thinned somewhat with only a small few dejected individuals slumped in seats still nearby, a goo creature seems to be having trouble holding himself together as he drips slowly to the floor. "Yes, the stripes certainly helped. I'm already RED, so I couldn't paint myself red to go faster, so I went with some sweet racing stripes." Redshift replies. "CLEARLY they were effective, because I won. I lost my solid gold ankle-wings after getting rammed, though." He adds, frowning. "YES!" Galvatron says, pumping a fist into the air. "I knew Motormaster wouldn't let me down! Pity he isn't here...." He looks at the next card, and reads from it. "Now, onto the Super-Heavyweight Class. *Unfortunately,* Fortress Maximus did not dare face me, so the bronze medal will not be awarded to either party. I deserved better anyway." (Editor's Note: This was later changed so that both sides won a medal) He sighs in disgust at what he has to read next. "*Grimlock* wins silver, unfortunately. And the gold goes to..." He glares at Rodimus Prime. "It goes to Rodimus Prime." Clenching his teeth, he takes a gold medal out of a case on the podium, and just hands it over to Rodimus. "Just... just take it!" Keeper would stop Rodimus from taking it to scan for some kind of danger on the medal but that'd be rude during this truce time. Rodimus Prime gives Galvatron a big, wide smile as he accepts the gold medal from his foe. "Why, /thank/ you, Galvatron!" he says cheerfully, snapping the magnetic medal to his chest. Then he turns towards the audiance and looks down at his card again. "Next, we have the full combat lightweight results. The Bronze medal was won by the Autobot, Swift. Silver..." Rodimus turns a broad smile towards Jayson Redfield. "Jayson, come on up here and accept Silver. And congratulations! And finally, the gold medal will be sent on to Carjack. Congratulations, everyone." Keeper makes a way for the human to get to his medal easily and claps for him. Jayson Redfield slips his game into his pocket. "It was a close fight," he comments as he steps up to claim his medal. "I almost won. Oh well--maybe next year." "Mm-hmm," Fusillade nods, letting Redshift gloat. She flags down a wandering vendor, pauses for a long time at the menu list, and eventually just orders a cyan-hued light energon as she listens to the names roll by. "Wait, gilded wings? For your ankles?" She glances down at Redshift's currently unadorned feet as she imagines the sight. "Ghastly! What sorta wings? Like shrikebats?" Dreadwind just sighs as people are rewarded for hurting others, making them suffer even more than they already have to, it's just so depressing. He stares out across the crowd and wonders just what terrible thing can possibly happen next, slowly he looks up fully expecting to see a massive meteor heading this way. Galvatron glares venomously at Rodimus for a moment, but looks at his next index card rather than punch him. "For Full-Combat Middleweight, Brawl proves to be the only Decepticon who managed to do anything even remotely right by winning Bronze, Longshot wins the silver medal, and Mirage, that backstabber, wins the gold medal." He looks around at the audience. "Mirage, if you're here, reveal yourself and take your medal! I demand it!" He waits. "*Fine!*" "No, little uh, feathered wings. Bird wings I guess?" Redshift replies uncertainly. "I was told they represented being FLEET of foot and all that. Plus they were SOLID GOLD!" "Goldfinches," Fusillade says with absolute certainty. "You still did great, Jayson," Rodimus assures as he pins the medal on the human's shirt. Then he straightens and looks at his next card. "In the full-combat heavyweight class, the winner of the Bronze medal is..." he makes a face. "Fusillade, come on up here and get your medal." Then his expression turns more sour. "Silver goes to Redshift, who needs to come accept it, and the Gold is taken by Boomslang. Who may or may not be here right now." Jayson Redfield grins. "Thanks, Prime!" He heads back to his former position, proudly displaying his new medal. Keeper glances around for Mirage, then shakes his head. He murmurs, "All these missing Autobots, they'd better not be out over energizing again. They have duties to get back to tomorrow." He claps again for the next event medal winners. Big mighty hands of steel claps. The presence of free coupon books, of which there are stacks and stacks behind the KNUJ booth, has caused random cycling of the crowd towards the booth so that people can take advantage of them. After all, KNUJ would get good advertising contracts in exchange for such publicity and promotion. Sit-Com nods at each patron and glances down towards the main ceremonies in between. "Woot, they're playing my song!" Redshift says, and he makes his way to claim his silver medal. "Congradulations, Fusillade." He says on his way up, although he probably wouldn't be so jovial if the order had been reversed. He accepts his medal, before flitting off again to makde room for the next lot. Fusillade pauses mid-drink, optics wide. "Huh, didn't lose out completely on that one, phew. C'mon, you. Let's see if we find a snake on the way to the podium." She makes an effort to rattle any promising looking vuvuzela stands as she approaches the podium. Still self-conscious about the unfinished matches, she edges up toward RODIMUS's side. Galvatron smirks. "Excellent! A clean sweep by the DECEPTICONS! As it should be!" He looks at his next card. "Now, as for the Full Combat Super-Heavyweight Class... oh, dear, it seems that after he faced me in the first round, Rodimus only won a measly bronze medal. *How fitting.*" Grinning evilly, he plucks a bronze medal from the case and sticks it to Rodimus's chest. "That's more like it, really. Ehnnnh, Grimlock wins a silver on account of being a better warrior than Fortress Maximus, which is depressing, and... oh, what's this? Who won the gold medal?..." He lifts the gold medal, looking upon it with mock curiosity. "Why... who else!? ME! Galvatron the invincible!" And he slaps the gold medal onto his chest. "AS IT SHOULD BE!" Jayson Redfield sticks his tongue out at Galvatron, but the Decepticon Overlord is not likely to notice. Clutch has arrived. "Yayyyyyyyyy" Fusillade says for Galvatron's sake as she retreats with the Heavyweight Bronze. Galvatron notices, glares at Jayson. "Hail Galvatron!" Redshift spouts as Galvatron awards himself a medal. He isn't usually in on the 'hails' much, but now seems good to help rub it in. Dreadwind would cheer or even should cheer for his illustrious leader but he just can't find it in himself to bother, it's not as if Galvatron will notice him anyway, no one ever does. Galvatron doesn't notice Dreadwind. Keeper looks between Galvatrons glare to the tongue sticker outer human and then joins the human in sticking a tongue out at Galvatron to divert the super deadly glare from the squishy. Sit-Com joins in on the raspberry action. Just because. Rodimus Prime shakes his head and looks briefly towards the roof of the cave, then clips the magnetic medals onto Fusillade and Redshifts chests. He turns towards the audiance, ignoring Galvatron and the Decepticons jeers and cheers beyond that earlier 'optic roll,' and looks at the next card. "Now we move into the team matches. For the Lightweight class, no bronze is being awarded. Silver, however, goes to Carjack and Specter, while gold goes to Apocryphacius and Barkida." He looks up at Galvatron and smirks. "Well, Galvatron, sounds like your troops were defeated by a Quintesson and a Femaxian. So much for Decepticon superiority!" Jayson Redfield just smiles innocently and waves to Galvatron. "I can bomb his house," Fusillade offers helpfully to Galvatron. Slag has arrived. Dreadwind listens to the continuing jibes between Rodimus and Galvatron and wonders just how far Galvatron can be pushed during a ceasefire before he explodes and starts annihilating things, normally it doesn't take much, just voicing an opinion is enough. Galvatron doesn't waste any more dirty looks on the Autobots as he looks at his next card. "Hrmph, they must have gotten lucky," he snorts at Rodimus Prime. "ANYWAY. For the Team Combat Middleweight Class, Backfire and Blast Off managed to win bronze medals, and I suppose that's the most I should have expected from THAT half of the team. Mirage, Longshot, Jazz, and Perceptor all win silver medals, wretches that they are." Fusillade offers to bomb someone, and Galvatron smirks at her. "Welllll.... why not!" Slag sits with the Autobot contingent, silently eyeing the Decepticons here. He doesn't like Rodimus, as most of the Dinobots do, but he's the man and all the man has to do is give the word and the embodiment of hate among the Autobots will be off the chain and melting things. "Kay, I'll start researching it tonight," Fusillade shouts entirely too cheerily at Galvatron, before leering at the back of Jayson's head. "This is gonna be fun!" she says to Redshift, all smiles. "Let me know if anything needs to be set on fire." Redshift adds with a smirk, as he await the remainder of the awards. He has a silver, but there's still a GOLD in store for him! Rodimus Prime is not likely to give the word while the truce is still on, as it is for one more night, though he's certainly wary - Galvatron nearly murdered him at the closing ceremony last year, after all. He sighs and makes mental note to have Redfield's house watch, then looks down at the next card. "The Heavyweight Team Bronze winners are Impactor, Whirl, and Springer, while the Silver goes to Blueshift, Catechism, and Fusillade. Fusillade, come receive your other medal?" Jayson Redfield turns around, and flips off Fusillade. Yeah, he went there. Fusillade purses hematite lips at Jayson. "Aww, how cute. I can do that too!" Perhaps not entirely too sure what it means, she stands up and returns the salute. Jayson Redfield gets flipped off by a Decepticon. Huh. Boomslang has arrived. "Haha, high five," Fusillade says unpleasantly to Redshift, before returning the human's gesture -- look ma, cultural exchange! -- and shimmying up to the podium. "Where IS everyone?!" she asks quizzically, pausing a few moments for photography as she accepts the next award. Galvatron looks at his next card, and frowns. "Due to scheduling conflicts, the match between myself, Prime, Maximus, and some volunteer never occurred, so, bronze medals for everyone," he says, sighing in disappointment. "But I would have won and you KNOW IT, Prime!!!" Galvatron neverthless puts a bronze medal on his own chest, then on Rodimus's. A reporter asks, "Wait, what class was that for?" "Team Combat Super-Heavywight Class! Now shut up!" Galvatron snaps. Jayson Redfield doesn't really seem bothered by Fusillade's retaliation. He just pulls out his game and starts playing again. Rodimus Prime gives an exargerated yawn as Galvatron shouts that he would have won it. "Same old song, same old song," he observes, sounding bored. "Oh, hey. So next up we have the results of the aerial Triathalon held on Dromedon. The Bronze goes to Sandstorm, the Silver to Darkwing, who..." Rodimus frowns and peers around the audiance. "Just left, I think. And the Gold went to Boomslang." He glances towards the 'Cons. "He ever show up?" Fortress Maximus has arrived. Combat: Boomslang appears out of fat air! Dreadwind is almost cheered up a tiny insignificant amount as he hears that at least one other Decepticon didn't really want to bother about these pointless medals and didn't turn up to aid Galvatron. That lucky one will now no doubt be free once and for all from his suffering once Galvatron catches up to him. Boomslang materializes next to Rodimus with his hand out. "Wouldn't miss it," he says with a wide and narrow grin. Rodimus Prime's optics flicker in faint surprise, but he's generally not very easily fazed, so he simply turns and clips the magnetic gold medal onto Dreadwind's chest. Boomslang's. Not Dreadwind's. All jets look the same! Keeper continues to stroll, remaining an active presense of watchfulness. Galvatron glares at Rodimus again, but lets it go. "Hrmph. Next, the artillery range, which the Decepticons *naturally* excelled at. Blast Off wins the Bronze Medal, Rumble wins the silver medal, and Fusillade wins the gold! Come on up here, Fusillade! Heh, at this rate you may as well move your seat up here!" He holds the medal up for her. Boomslang adjusts his medal with a look of satisfaction and goes back to the winner's circle to bask, collecting his other medals from the Olympic staff as he does so. Sit-Com looks at his wrist-TV which has the time in the corner. Countdown to No-Truce Day. Coincidentally, the Trailer Park Boys are playing on the TV. "Oh I'll move my seat," Fusilalde twitches her hips, "And the rest of me right on up here," she giggles as she sashays past Jayson and Keeper on her way up to the podium. Again. "Those gourd launchers were kinda cool, I want one," she effuses at Galvatron. Rumble bounces around excitedly with his silver medal. "Top 'o the world, Soundwave! Who's the greatest tape? Who's the greatest? Yeaaaaah!" Rodimus Prime frowns at Fusillade, then looks down at the audience. "Next, we have the Demolition Derby, where Motormaster took Bronze, Chromedome took Silver, and Clutch took Gold." And then, because Clutch declared himself probably AFK, Rodimus moves onto the next event! "Also, there's the Ig-Yak rodeo, where Barkida is the winner of the Bronze medal, Silver goes to Impactor, and Fortress Maximus won the Gold medal." Rodimus looks around, frowning. "Could have sworn Max said he'd be here..." Keeper headshakes. "There is going to be a lot of hung over idiots on duty tomorrow." Motormaster looks more than usually sullen as he accepts his medal. Maybe he doesn't feel that bronze is good enough in the Demolition Derby. "You will see more of the Stunticons in this event next year," he promises/warns Rodimus as he takes the medal away. As the awards go on and more and more of the Autobot winners fail to turn up to collect their awards sparks Dreadwind's suspicions. They're not here so they must be somewhere else preparing a devious trap for the Decepticons once the treaty is over, probably an ambush on the journey home.... typical. Galvatron stares at Fusillade. "What? You want catapults that fire pumpkins? Err... I don't see why. It seems to have limited use, in my opinion, which is synonymous with fact anyway." He looks at his next card, and grimaces. "Unhhh. They gave ME this card!? Fine. For the Autobot Free-For-All event, wherein the Autobots determined which of them was the least of the losers, Scattershot won bronze, Keeper won silver, and Swoop won the gold medal." He looks around the audience, frowning. Which one is Keeper, again? His gaze settles on the Monsterbot in question. Oh, right, the weird looking one. "Eh, come get your medal, Autobot," Galvatron sighs, holding the silver medal out like it's some disgusting thing he doesn't want in his possession anymore. Battle Station finally manages his way to the Olympic's ending ceremony, barely being able to navigate through the crowded mess in the area due to his large blocky size and unwillingness to push and shove his way through. It's a miracle he's managed to make it to the site at all in this sea of spectators. Eventually he does make it though, just in time to hear his own name called. "Oop. Excuse me. Pardon me." Fortress Maximus apologetically makes his way through the crowd but stops just before the stage, unable to go any further. Good thing he's a big guy. The Headmaster leader looks up and extends a hand out towards Rodimus Prime, "Sorry, this is as far as I can get. Thank you for this medal, it's a great honour." Battle Station transforms into his Fortress Maximus mode. Keeper steps forward and stands next to Galvatron. He pauses looking at the decepticon tyrant treating him like he has cooties and then takes the medal. "Right then." He steps down and resumes crowd watch duty. Jayson Redfield keeps playing his game, but he's still aware of things. "Awww," Fusillade sulks as the idea gets shot down. "Well, I already have an extra curricular fun mission, so I guess I shouldn't be too greedy," she hums cheerfully to herself, pleased with the bronze-silver-gold array glinting on her chest. Rodimus Prime nods at Fort Max, moves to the edge of the stage, reaches towards him, and attaches the magnetic gold to the other's palm. "There you go, big guy," he says, then straightens and moves back to the podium. He beams proudly. "The Sharpshooting event was /swept/ by the Autobots!" he proclaims. "Mirage won the Bronze, Steeljaw takes home the Silver, and Warpath receives the Gold! The Junkions, however, dominated the science competition, with Chromedome taking Bronze, Lab-brat winning the Silver, and the Gold going to Monstereo. Finally, in the Decepticon Free-For-All..." Rodimus frowns and looks towards one of the Six Lasers staffers. "Who sorts these things out? Anyway, Decepticon Free-For-All. Bronze to Hook, Fusillade takes Silver, and Catechism wins Gold! Here you go, Fusillade," and he hands her yet another medal. Monstereo is with us in spirit. He's not off getting wasted.... really. Fusillade frolicks up to Rodimus again. "You look bored," she frowns. Rodimus Prime admits, muttering away from the mic, "I hate awards ceremonies." Galvatron looks horrified. "The *Junkions* dominated the science event? The *Junkions*?! I'm surprised those rustbuckets understand the technology behind a wheel! Bah!" He glances at his next card. "Oh, this is ridiculous! The EDC Free-For-All!? I could care less who won that! But VERY WELL... Jayson Redfield managed to win the silver medal, presumably because he wasn't distracted by his usual attempts to put Rodimus Prime in danger, and James Bailey, whoever that is, won the gold medal." He looks at the human who stuck his tongue out at him earlier. "Wait, are you Jayson Redfield? Well, get your medal and be done with it." He uses a pair of forceps to carefully extract Jayson's tiny medal from the case, and sighs as he lowers it down to human level. That was adorable and precious. Boomslang snickers at the tiny award. "Puny human medal." Sit-Com rummages around for a raspberry sticker to give to Jayson. Jayson Redfield rolls his eyes at Galvatron, slips the game into his pocket again, and steps up. "Thank you," he says politely, despite having oh-so-rudely stuck his tongue out earlier. Rodimus Prime glares at Galvatron's 'putting Rodimus Prime in danger' remark, then looks down at his card next. "Next is the Air Race. James Bailey won the Bronze, Dreadwind received the Silver, and the Gold goes to Fragment." He looks around the audience. "I don't think any of them are here, but..." and then his gaze fixes on Dreadwind. "Hey, Darkwing, you mind taking this medal back to your buddy?" Sit-Com is looking forward to getting a little wasted himself, later. Dreadwind struggles to push himself upright to go and collect his award, well not his, but it is, things always get more complicated when he and Darkwing have to do that most disgusting of actions, combining. Eventually on his feet he trudges to collect the award and even this doesn't seem to put a single spark of cheer into his dull, gloom filled optics, in fact he seems a little more depressed than usual knowing full well that the moment he is off the stage everyone will forget his achievement, what a waste of effort... and the medal is undoubtedly a time delayed bomb ready to go off the moment the trety is over, trouble is it won't kill him just maim him a little. Collecting the award he trudges off his dull depressing voice complaining to anyone in ear shot, "Great, they can't even get our names right... i should have known." Slag continues to watch. Though he won no medals, and only competed in one event, he sits up as if he won every gold medal. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and continues to silently survey the proceedings with his usual look of disdain on his face. Slag does look like he hates everything. Fortress Maximus claps his hand in response to the Junkion and EDC members being awarded medals in the various competitions that they've participated in, "Congratulations! There wasn't any doubt in my mind that Junkion ingenuity is just as evenly matched as some of our brightest minds." As more EDC members are named by Rodimus Prime, even Galen asserts himself as he takes control and offers his own congratulations, "Hey, marvelous job in the air races, Colonel. You've done your planet great honour by obtaining a placing in an event normally dominated by Cybertronians!" Galvatron mutters, "Don't bother, he has trouble mustering the motivation to get out of the recharge bunk sometimes." However, he is somewhat surprised to see Dreadwind actually manages to pull himself up to do it. Clearing his vocalizer, he glances at his next card and continues on. "And now, onto the last two events. For the Land Race, Topsin wins bronze, and... ehhhnnn..." He squints at the lettering. "Break... Breakdance? Hrn. Breakdance apparently won the silver medal, and Penumbra won the gold medal, no doubt with the help of copious interference by the slower Autobot contestants. And lastly, for the Foot Race, Foxfire wins the bronze medal, Barkida wins the silver medal, and Redshift has won the silver medal." He looks around. "Hrn, he was just here. Ah well, I'll have someone give it to him later." Meanwhile, a certain Stunticon, wrapped in blankets, shakes nervously as he watches the closing ceremonies from the holovision in his personal quarters. "They got my name wrong! Those Six Lasers bastards, they did it on purpose, I know it!" He looks around the room fearfully. Did they bug his room? Do they know he's mad at them? Will he... have to kill them first? Rodimus Prime leans towards Galvatron and psssts. "Pssst. Galvatron. You gave out two Silver medals for the Foot Race." Keeper murmurs, "Looks like somebody here started overenergizing early..." Barkida quietly takes her medal, looking a bit uneasy even though she is resplendently togate in gilt rope and laurel wreath. Could it be that the fearless gladiatrix has a terror of public speaking? She returns quickly to the Femaxian contingent to add the medal to her others. Galvatron looks at his card again. His optics widen, and he tears the card in half. "Bah. Hold on..." He sends a transmission to a Six Lasers official, waits, and then announces, "Correction, Redshift won the GOLD medal." He mutters, "THANKS, Prime," but manages not to convey any gratitude. His seconds off attention gone Dreadwind heads to the nearest shady corner the resounding lack of clapping or cheering when he received the medal pushes his usual cheery mood even deeper into the darkness. He slumps against the wall and slowly slides to the floor looking for all intents and purposes as if someone had just killed him, but he's not that lucky, he never is. "Think nothing of it," Rodimus shrugs, mostly because he's sure that Galvatron will do just that. Louder, he says, "Well, guys, that's it for this years Olympics. Remember that the truce is still in effect until the night is over," then he adds, muttering, "gives people time to evacuate," then, louder, says, "So enjoy this one last night 'off' while you can. Congratulations to /all/ our participants, and good night." He heads off the stage, rather hurridely, and transforms as soon as he's off, taking off as quickly as he can make it through the crowds. With scant hours left of the truce, he has to go make sure the Autobots are ready for the Decepticons' next move! Jayson Redfield watches Rodimus take off. Then he decides to go get drunk. After all, there's no age limit for drinking in Six Lasers! But there might be an appendage one. You must have this many legs in order to drink this. Slag looks around, the abrupt ending of the ceremony jarring even for Slag. "Me Slag say that was sudden!" Galvatron tries to think of something inspiring to say to his Decepticons, and totally one-up Rodimus. "Yes, it was a fierce competition, and I didn't count the medals because that's someone else's job, but I'm pleased to see that the Decepticons came out on top this year!" He doesn't actually know that. "Let us hope the next Olympics will also--oh, nevermind. There won't BE a next Olympics because there won't be any AUTOBOTS there to take part! Hmhahahaha! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" He raises his fists into the air. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The cameras are still rolling when Galvatron finishes his maniacal laugh. "Ahem. Well. I suppose you have nothing to look forward to, next year, then! Oh well!" He walks off the podium on that positive note. Keeper holds out his arms. "Alright folks, show is over. Nothing to see here, move it along. You don't have to go home but you can't stay here. Nothing to see here." A "yeaaaaaaaah, riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight," emanates from the crowd after Galvatron's remark. Fusillade appears by Keeper's left elbow. "Hey, how you doin'?" Slag stands and makes a harrumph sound. "Me Slag say him glavytron even dumber than him Sludge. As long as there Dinobots, there always Autobots, and me Slag don't see Dinobots being gone soon." he nods sharply and heads for an exit. Keeper headturns to Fusillade. He deadpans, "I'm not telling you where the human lives." If Dreadwind's mind was still in the here and now and not swallowed by the deep chasm of depression that resulted from collecting his medal he might take heart in the bleak outlook from Galvatron but unfortunately he doesn't hear it. The crowd begins dispersing as this year's Olympics officially concludes with the ending ceremony. That's a good thing for Fortress Maximus, as he can now freely move without worrying about bumping into somebody else or unwittingly commit manslaughter by accidentally stepping on a small sized alien. He soon regroups with the rest of the Autobots in the area before announcing, "Hey, don't forget that the Autobot shuttles heading back to the Orion Pax starts taking off at the first hour of dawn tomorrow. Don't get left behind. Pass the message on if you see other Autobots." Now that he's carried out his responsibility, the Headmaster leader begins casually mingling, taking note of some of the medals that the other Autobots have won, "We've won quite a few medals this year, nice job everyone!" Sit-Com does the Arsenio-hoot. Slag has left. Boomslang has left. Dreadwind moves west to the Statue Of The Hero. Dreadwind has left. Fortress Maximus has left. I can't find who you're trying to page with: maximus Astrotrain says, "Ugh. That's...that's the last time I ever try a drink called a 'Final Count Down."" Dreadwind says, "I doubt it, you'll try another, you're always trying." Astrotrain says, "Yeah well next time I won't have had a dozen other drinks beforehand!" Astrotrain says, "...wait this isn't where I pass ou...went offline to recharge." Dreadwind says, "Does that really matter?" Scattershot says, "So what happens when this 'truce' is over? Fireworks? Interplanetary announcements?" Him Sludge says, "We stomp stupid Decepticons." Scattershot hmphs. "Well I think we should throw a party." Jayson Redfield says, "Yeah!" Sit-Com says, "Party up in here."